


ocean eyes

by laurelsalexis



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arranged Marriage, Childbirth, Drabble Collection, F/M, Non-Linear Narrative
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-27
Updated: 2018-11-02
Packaged: 2019-08-08 07:08:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16424708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laurelsalexis/pseuds/laurelsalexis
Summary: a collection of drabbles for robbcella ; connected in an au but not written in linear form ;





	1. birth

**Author's Note:**

> I stumbled across some drabble lists and since my writer's block basically makes it so i do nothing i thought this would be something fun to do to encourage me to write at least something. these will be about 1000 words each, plus/minus 20 is my goal. (which is not as easy as it sounds).
> 
> this also allows me to write an canon au that i will never get around to but desperately want to write. basically a run of the mill they get married before everything goes to shit au. also she's aged up so it's not creepy. these are connected but won't be in order. just think of it as snapshots. 
> 
> #1: birth
> 
> mentions of childbirth and all that jazz so if you're not into that might want to skip it.

Myrcella goes into labor a few weeks early.

Robb can see the way Maester Vyman fills with concern as he looks between both he and Myrcella. Robb swallows back anything he wishes to say with the way his wife squeezes his hand, nearly hard enough to break the bones. _Almost_.

“Something is wrong.” Myrcella tries to keep her voice even but as she looks up at Robb her eyes are filled with fear.

“You will be fine.” Robb promises and he prays to the Gods that he is not lying to his wife as she lies in the bed. “I promise.”

There are a plenty of thoughts running through his mind and he finds it hard to think of anything but his wife. His wife who is not going to do anything but birth them a healthy babe and live. If he thinks it then it will be true. The war is on his mind of all the things he has prayed for the Gods for. So little comes true. This must.

“You should not be here, Robb.” His mother says as she comes into the room.

“I am not leaving.”

“You have things to attend to.” She tries to be gentle as she stands with her hands clasped.

“I am not leaving.” He tells his mother with as much authority as ever and hears the groans coming from Myrcella. Customs mean so very little to him as he sees how much pain and fear move through Myrcella.

Catelyn looks around the room before setting her gaze back upon her son. “Very well.”

Robb is old enough to remember most of his mother’s labors. While usually ushered off by a septa the screams were loud until they were replaced with the cries of one of his siblings. His mother survived them all even if sounded as if she wouldn’t.

The same would be true for Myrcella who is doing much of the same.

“Robb, I cannot do this.” She looks up at him, covered in a layer of sweet, tears on the edge of her eyes. “I cannot. I know I cannot.”

“Shh.” Robb brushes her hair off of her face before getting behind her in the bed, just as the words for her to push soon come to both of them. His hands find hers and their fingers interlock, holding on tightly to her. “I am right here. Okay?”

Myrcella gives a soft nod of her head as she squeezes his hands and leans herself back against him, trying to look up at him as she groans through the pain only worsening. “I’m tired.”

“I know. But you need to do this.”

“You need to push, Your Grace.” Maester Vyman urges gently as Catelyn comes around with a dampened cloth to help cool Myrcella.

“No.” Myrcella shakes her head, leaning her weight back into Robb. “I am afraid.”

“I am right here.” Robb remains her support. “You have been so excited to meet the babe.”

“It is not time.” She shakes her head again as the waves of pain find her.

“Myrcella, it is. Trust me, trust the Gods.” He murmurs. “You trust me, do you not?”

“Okay.”

“Okay.” He looks up at Maester Vyman with a nod and focuses on his wife.

He tells her to push and she does, letting out a scream, gripping his hand even tighter if possible.

“You’re doing good.” He encourages her as she continues on, using all of her strength.

It takes longer than he expects before the babe’s cries fill the room. He smiles, instantly, looking up at his daughter. “See, you did it.”

“I did it?”

“You did it.” Robb places a kiss on the side of her head as the babe is placed on her. “She’s healthy and perfect, like her mother.”  

“It’s a girl, Your Grace.” Maester Vyman says for good measure.

“A girl?” Myrcella looks down at the babe, almost bewildered by the whole event. “Lyanna.”

“I thought -”

“ _Lyanna_. If I die she needs a good name.”

“You are not going to die.”

“Princess Lyanna.” Myrcella whispers as she leans back at him. “It’s a good name.”

“Mother.” Robb calls for her to take his daughter and Robb moves himself from her and lays her back against the bed. He can see the concern, the blood, and how fast Myrcella is losing any energy she has left. “Myrcella, I love you.”

“I love you.” She murmurs, a struggle to open her eyes to look at him. “I am sorry I did not give you a son.”

“She is perfect.”

“I’m tired. I want to sleep.”

Robb looks at the maester who nods. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

A moment finds him where he panics but he sees the rise and fall of her chest as she sleeps. He gets to hold his daughter a few moments before the wet nurse is there to feed her. Robb only paces up and down the hall, unsure what to do, what to think.

Later he is told she is healing and she should survive. The babe is healthy regardless of her early appearance. Worries fills him as he spends the coming days fussing over his duties, his daughter, and his sleeping wife who seems to do little better.

No worse, for that he is grateful.

“You are a Stark.” He whispers to a sleeping Lyanna, cuddled against him, as he sits in the chair at Myrcella’s side. “Strong and stubborn.”

“And me?” A soft voice whispers, groggily, barely audible.

Robb smiles almost too wide when he hears the voice. “You, Myrcella, are most definitely a Stark.” He looks down at Lyanna. “Your mother gave us a fright, didn’t she?”

“Can I hold her?”

“She has your hair.” Myrcella comments as Robb puts Lyanna in her arms and joins them on the bed.

Robb places a kiss on Myrcella’s head. “And your everything else.”

“Don’t call the Maester yet. I want to sit here just us for a few moments.”

“Anything you want.” Robb kisses the top of her head. “I’m just glad you’re awake.”

“Me too.”


	2. enthusiasm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #2: enthusiasm
> 
> warnings for mild smut.

Myrcella sits in her shift in Robb’s chambers, _their chambers_ , legs tucked to the side of her as she rests her hands on her thighs. Her gaze focuses upon the door as she tries her hardest to not go and search for him. They have only been married a few weeks past. Feelings continue to rush over her as she gets to know her husband more. With her family traveled back to King’s Landing and finally out of the grip of both Joffrey and her mother she finds peace, along with finding herself.

“My Lord.” She greats softly, biting down on her lower lip, trying to not seem to eager as the door opens and her husband walks through the threshold.

Robb removes his furs before looking at Myrcella, eyes widening ever so slightly, swallowing as he walks over to the edge of the bed. “My Lady.”

She does not know how to read him. Can only hope that he is not put off by her forwardness. Her mother’s words are in her mind. Advice on what to do with wolves or tales of what wolves do with girls like her. He hasn’t proven cruel and she does not think he will be. His is not her father. Even if one is named after the other.

For a moment she remains silent until she’s up on her knees and crawling over to where he is. It is the only time she can look at the eyes she prays their children inherit. On the bed there she is, as tall as he. Her hands reach out to pull at the strings of his tunic. He says nothing but nor does he stop her. She focuses on his chest, near too afraid to look at him in the eye. If he questions her she can say she is being nothing more than a dutiful wife. Even when the desire is deep in the pit of her stomach.

She licks her lips before she runs her hands along his chest, pushing the leather off of him, the sound of it hitting the floor the only thing in the room.

Bravery finds her once more as she looks at his eyes.

If she has to guess he looks amused with her and interested. At least she hopes so. Her lips find his after a moment as her arms wrap around him, bringing him closer.

Robb pushes her down against the bed and pushes her shift up, hand on her thighs, making her want with desire. More so than she had before. It feels good and her body burns in a way that makes her need more.

The kiss breaks as the need for air finds them and in a moment he is on his back as she is on top of him.

He looks at her with a raise of her eyebrow but ultimately says nothing.

“I’m curious.” Is all she says as she makes it down his body, pulling him free from the confines of his breeches, feeling his half hard cock in her hand.

She’s felt it before, felt him, but not like this. He’s heavy in her hand, _big_ , making her more uncertain. Still, it is what she wants to try. She gives him a stroke, too light she thinks, but he grows hard in her hand quickly. How wrong can she be doing it?

At first it feels weird. Foreign and different. Nothing like she expects but she doesn’t mind it. Not when a soft moan comes from him. It only makes her want to do this more.

She does her best to take him in her mouth entirely. It’s too much for her and she has to tell herself to relax around him. She focuses on not biting him even if her instincts tell her to. Instead she moves her mouth up and down, doing her best to cover as much as she can, using her hand in the empty space.

She sucks and uses her tongue in ways she think might be pleasurable. It is when she swallows that a loud moan comes from him. She is eager to please him and when his hand fingers through her golden curls she thinks he may actually be enjoying himself. She easily finds she is enjoying herself, wanting desperately to touch herself, get some kind of relief. She can wait. She wishes for this to be about him.

His breathing and moans fill the room and it is not long before she can feel his seed filling her mouth, though longer than their wedding night, her name spilling off his lips, and a tug of her hair that only causes her to moan.

It is unexpected but not bad. Not even as the taste is unlike anything else, swallowing it down as best she can.

As he does his best to catch his breath she moves to straddle him, hands on his chest, running the tip of her finger along him. She writes out her name against him, an invisible mark. She is still too shy to mark him for certain with her mouth.

“Did you like it?” She cannot hold the question back any further and worries not for her looking as if she is fishing for a compliment.

“Yes.” Robb nods as he catches his breath. “You were very... _eager_.”

Myrcella smiles, hoping that is a good thing. “I wanted to know.”

“Mm.” Robb only smirks before flipping on her back, hovering above her, lips not quite touching her. “I think it is my turn.”

Myrcella is surprised but only giggles as he makes his way down her body, shoving her shift up, exposing her to the cool air and her Lord husband’s hot mouth, before the only sounds are her moans.

He proves to be just as eager as she is. Perhaps a touch even more so.

She is not complaining.


	3. love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #3 ; love

It is the middle of the afternoon as they lay against the furs, sneaking some time away from their children. As it turns out the children of a wolf and lioness can be quite rambunctious. Robb remembers fondly of how he and Theon would run amuck at any time they could. When Jon joined them it only made them cause more trouble. Trouble Robb often took the fall for, knowing he would get in far less trouble than either.

Those days are behind him now as his own children run about with one another and get into all sorts of trouble.

He has no hostages and no bastards that are secretly the child of a long gone sister. His internal complications are of another kind.

“What are you thinking?” Myrcella asks quietly as she runs her fingers through his auburn curls that are sprinkled with grey.

“I was wondering how long until they find us.” Robb cannot help but smile.

“Hmm.” Myrcella briefly looks at the door but near immediately pulls her gaze back upon Robb. “Soon. They would not stop speaking of how you are to take them riding.”

Robb knows she is right. The boys have been looking forward to their adventure for some time now. “Do you wish to come?”

“No.” Myrcella nuzzles against him. “I have some things to attend to.”

“Skip them.”

“How can I do that when you are doing that?” She raises her eyebrow but the smile does not falter.

“I think the _king_ and _queen_ can do as they wish.”

“Of course you do.” Myrcella nuzzles her head in the crook of his neck.

Robb’s arms wrap around her and draw her closer. “This is nice.”

“It is nice.”

“We could stay here forever.” A dream he has often, just to lie there, like when they were first wed. Many years have passed since then. Triumphs and tragedies. Births and deaths. They still remain.

“Until the boys stumble in demanding their riding.”

“Perhaps they will forget.”

She lets out a breathy chuckle against his skin. “You know they will not.”

“I love you.”

“What brought that on?” She pulls back slightly so she can look up at him.

“Nothing. I just do.”

She narrows her eyes at him. “Did not get up to any trouble?”

“No.”

She watches him for a moment, tilting her head. Much in the same fashion Grey Wind does when he is curious. “I love you, too.”

“I have a gift for you.”

“What is it?”

Robb gets up from the furs and moves on over to the small desk where he keeps things. To hide in such plain sight a risk he takes. Not that either of them using their room for work. Hardly ever. Always wind up a bit distracted between one and another and their children.

When he turns back Myrcella is sitting up and smoothing out her dress from their time lying in bed enjoying the peace and quiet.

“I am not a vain woman but I enjoy gifts from my husband.”

“Is that your way of saying for me to hurry?”

“Yes.” She smiles as she waits.

He walks over so he’s standing in front of her. “Now that winter has passed I thought this would be nice for you to have.” The necklace is on a bronze chain, a amethyst pendant, encased in a gold design. Not traditional for the North, by any means. Everything is bronze and iron, durable enough to withstand the cold. Robb does not think he even anything in gold. Perhaps something Myrcella gifted him that is stashed somewhere. It is now spring, summer is near, and he hardly thinks durability is the only thing that matters.

Myrcella takes the necklace from his hand the moment he offers it out to her, unable to hide the sheer joy on her face. “It’s beautiful, Robb.”

“Let me put it on you.”

Myrcella stands and hands him the necklace before turning so her back is to him and moves her long blonde curls to the side.

Robb puts it on and clasps for her before gently guiding her to turn back towards him.

“What is this for?” She asks as she looks down as the pendant sits over the top of her dress.

“No reason. I wanted you to have it.” It is the small gestures he remembers his mother telling him once. His father was much a Northman. Not always filled with deep affection. Robb always knew how much his parents loved one another regardless. He wishes for his children and more importantly, Myrcella, to always know the same. “I got while I was in White Harbor.”

“It is lovely, thank you.”

Robb takes a step forward with a smile on his face and flips the pendant. “It has our initials.”

“And they say the Northerners are nothing but beasts.”

“Aye, do not forget it.” He smiles and tucks her hair behind her ear. “I just want you to always know you have me.”

She leans up and kisses him, soft, leisurely, just a moment between them both. “I do not need gifts to know that.”

“No, but you deserve them for all you do.”

“Mm, I do a lot, don’t I?”

Robb kisses her instead of answering.

“Thank you.” She breathes against his lips. “I will wear it always.”

There is a soft knock at the door before it opens. “I apologize for interrupting, Your Graces. The children are asking for you, _both_ of you.”

“Thank you. We’ll be there in a minute.” Myrcella states with a smile.

“ _Busted_.”

“Be careful riding.” She fixes his tunic. “I do not want my sons breaking anything.”

“And your husband?”

An artful smile slips across the edge of her lips. “I will let you know when I see him.”

“Terrible.” He brushes his nose against her before stealing one last kiss. “Absolutely terrible.”

As he tries move away she pulls him closer, not yet willing to part. “I love you.”

“ _Always_.”


	4. hate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #4 ; hate

Myrcella does not enjoy the anger overwhelming her. In fact, as she sits in a room at Riverrun she thinks she could kill her husband if he walks in the room at the wrong time. Of course, it is not true, the murder part, only the raw fury she has not felt in many moons.

Marriage is not easy. She knows that. She remembers watching her mother and _Robert_ as they tried to make work of their marriage. She hears from her good mother that things were not always smooth when it came to her and Ned. She sees it around them as those wed are not always happy. Being in the middle of the war makes things far more difficult, she supposes.

In truth, she is not always happy. Of course, she is rarely reduced to tears for she has no other way to express her feelings in proper words. It makes her feel foolish and weak, crying in front of him before storming out, nearly yelling at every poor man and woman who attempts to help her.

She half hopes he will not come see her at all. Let him ignore her. It will be easier.

The Gods are not on her side as the door opens and in walks Robb, pulling the crown off of his head and tossing in onto the table. Unkindly. She can see how unhappy he is and that should bring her some joy. It does not. It only causes her to swallow back and do her best to not start shouting at him.

For as angry as she is she does not wish to become her mother. If she becomes Cersei there is no way her and Robb could find any happiness. Their squabble should remain between them and not become gossip among the men. She does not fear him making her cheek redden as her mother’s so often was, though. For that she can thank the Gods.

“I thought you would be asleep.” Robb says as he takes a seat to remove his boots.

“No.” Myrcella answers curtly.

Robb doesn’t reply with words. Instead only a grunt comes from him to at least signal that he hears her.

She stands suddenly and walks over to him. Her arms are crossed as she looks down at him. “Is that all you have to say?”

“What do you want me to say?” He sounds so tired as he focuses on the laces and not her.

Myrcella glares at him as if he will suddenly burst into flames simply by her gaze. “Nothing.”

Robb lets out a long sigh and reaches out for her. When he does Myrcella takes a step back so she is out of reach. Instead he looks up at her as his hand rest on his lap.

“He is my father, Robb.” She does not know what more to say. No part of her wishes to beg, but she also knows if it is the only way she will at least contemplate it.

“You are not going to see him.”

“You cannot tell me what to do.”

“You are not going to see him.” Robb repeats as he doesn’t dare to look at her, rather tugs the boots off and tosses them to the side to be dealt with another time.

“You are a terrible king.” Words rushing out in a huff just to irritate him.

Robb says nothing to that and rather undresses himself for the evening. He’s quieter than she has ever experienced in her life and she does not know what to say or do. Squabbles come and go but nothing of this nature. What is there to say between them? Her father is the same man as her uncle. It’s unsavory in even the best of circumstances. She is no Targaryen. There is no custom for this. It is just the desires in the heart of Cersei and Jaime.

“Just say it.”

“Say what?”

“You do not wish to be married a bastard of incest.” The venom that laces her words are both at him and herself, still doing her best to process the absolute truth.

“That is not true.”

“Is it not?”

“We are wed, Myrcella.” He tells her. “Nothing will change that.”

It does not make her feel better and she wishes it did. She wishes, for once, Robb knows the right thing to say. Sometimes he is too much a man from the North and too little everything else. She swallows back any emotion and picks up her skirts to move towards the door. “I will do as I wish.”

“No, you will not.” His voice is loud and commanding. Something she has heard with his men but never her. “I will let you see him eventually. Not now.”

“Let?” She nearly picks up a cup and throws it. Not at him. She does not wish to hurt him. More so out of her own anger. “I hate you.”

“Very well.”

“If you wish I am certain you would be granted an annulment.” She does her best to keep her voice from shaking, not wishing for him to hear the raw emotions going through her. “A bastard is not who you were knowingly marrying.”

“I would never do that.”

As he speaks she opens the door. “I wish I believe you.”

“Where are you going?”

“If you’ll allow,” she bites, “I would much rather rest somewhere else. _Alone_.”

“Myrcella.”

“No.” She cannot look at him for her heart will ache more than it does. “I will not do as _my grace_ commands. I just wish to rest.”

“If you wish.”

“I do.” She nearly slams the door behind her and walks down the hall to the furthest empty room she can find. It is only her and she finds herself on the bed before tears pool down her cheeks. Come morning she hopes she does not feel as she does, nor does she look as if she’s spent the night in tears.

If only things could be easy.


	5. triumph

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #5 ; Triumph

There are few things like the rush of battle.

It is not something Robb finds easy to explain to his wife when he finds himself in her presence after one, covered in dirt and blood, sweating, _exhausted_ , only to be the most alert he has ever been in his short life. Since his last battle won, at least.

Of course, it helps that he is not on the losing side of the battles and he can say that he is making progress. Things are not perfect and so often he finds himself worrying over the state of so much. From his sisters to the more intricate details of the war itself. When the rush leaves he is exhausted, as are his men, and the families they both have with them and have left behind.

But there, as he itches to get the armor off of him, he does not seem to care much of those things.

He cares only for the feeling before him as he knows Tywin Lannister is scowling somewhere, upset at the defeat from a man so young, married to his only granddaughter. He does not say that to Myrcella as he knows that her relationship with her grandfather has always been pleasant. They have their complications and it is beneficial for them both if they keep conversations of her family for times when they are only necessary.

He cannot say they are necessary now.

As soon as the armor is gone he sends the squire away. He is not needed. Instead he finds himself at the edge of the bed in the tent in the middle of the camp. The wine is tempting but he finds himself wishing to see his wife more and to speak with her. A seat is taken next to her as he turns himself towards her so that he can focus upon her and not the way he swears he can feel the blood pumping through every inch of him.

“You look and smell dreadful.”

“Aye.” Robb only smiles as he lets the energy consume him. “Later.”

Her hand reaches out to move his hair out of his face. “I hear you won.”

Robb nods as he runs his fingers through her blonde curls. Deep down he knows to abandon the conversation. Difficult to be as content with the battle as he truly wishes to be when he is married to a Lannister. A _Baratheon_. “Some casualties.” Nothing like other battles he wishes to say, but he does not.

“I am pleased, Your Grace.”

Sometimes it still feels as if their marriage is new. A year has not yet past so in some ways it is. In others he knows her better than he can say he knows most. He has her. Only her, really. Occasionally Theon is still by his side but the other constants in his life are gone. There is no Sansa learning her duties as he is learning his. Arya is not running around with a weapon his mother disapproves of. Bran is not begging him to read. Rickon is not tugging at his feet to play. Jon is the furthest away and sometimes he prays Jon could show up to help. Even his relationship with his mother is much changed. They rarely see eye to eye and he is a touch too stubborn to heed her advice in ways he perhaps should.

All he has is his wife.

“You do not need to be.” It feels wrong to admit such a thing. If the Greatjon was to hear Robb say such a thing to Myrcella there would be a loud roaring of harsh words.

Myrcella only remains quiet.

Robb swallows, dropping his hand back to his lap, uncertain if he should continue. The rush is still in his veins and he is not yet willing to let go of it. “I may think poorly on them, but they are still your family. I do not expect that to change overnight.” Nor does he wish to have a deafening silence between them. A compromise is all he seeks.

“You are my family.” She does not quite believe her own words and it shows in the sound of her voice.

In some ways she is right. He is her family. As the moment Sansa marries Joffrey she will be his family. An exchange of sisters, almost. While always his sister Robb knows it is not he who will be a priority. An interesting way to think about such things. Unimportant in the moment. He scoots so he is closer to her and when she does nothing to move from him he thinks it to be okay.

“I will win this war.” He tells her with the confidence he has throughout every inch of him. “ _e_ will.”

Myrcella nods as her hands fall to her lap. “Promise me you will not be so gleeful when you kill them.”

Robb frowns, furrowing his brows, wondering if he is misreading the exchange together. Theon tells him women are easy. You say what they wish to hear. “I promise.” It does not feel the right thing to say or what she wishes to hear, but it is about the words he can muster.

“Okay.” She offers him a hint of a smile and leans forward to give him a peck on the lips.

Robb wants to draw her near and take her right there. Exhaustion is no match for desire but he knows the careful line between them.

“Draw a bath.” She tells him as she stands. “I will find us something to eat.”

Robb catches her wrist as she walks past him. “I have upset you.”

“No.” She shakes her head. “I fear women do not understand war in the same way men do.”

Robb does not believe she believes the words out of her mouth, but he releases her wrist regardless. “Will you join me, Myrcella?”

“That is what the food is for.”


	6. feel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #6 ; feel
> 
> warnings for reference to miscarriage

Myrcella has always kept the Faith of the Seven. It is what she is raised under as a young girl. She perhaps has moments in which she does not pray as she should, but she knows them far better than she knows the Gods of her husband.

For the entire duration of their marriage she sees her husband disappear into whatever Godswood he can find. Sometimes she watches from afar as he prays in front of the heart tree. So often she wishes she can hear what he is saying. Never does she ask, though. Nor does she move to join him. It feels something of an intrusion. Almost as if she does not belong there.

When they find themselves back in Winterfell she sees the sept Ned built Catelyn. Often she slips in there, but more often than not she simply finds herself a touch distracted. There are better ways to spend her time, she tells herself.

No excuse.

Not a valid one, at least.

Wars are long behind them as she finally finds herself kneeling in front of the heart tree. There is snow under her, wet and cold even through the fabric of her dress guarding her knees from the white blanket, causing her to shiver. One day she may adjust to the cold. She does not think that will be soon.

For as much as her husband is one and her three Stark children are, she definitely cannot say that she is one.

Her hands settles on her stomach as she prays to the Gods for guidance. The weight is heavy upon her as she tries to find answers. It is not as if the tree will begin to speak to her. At least she thinks it will not. Even for how long she’s been in the north she cannot ascertain what is truth and what is simply the South making up rumors of the North. A subtle feud that exists even still. She can see it even if Robb does not.

Her husband is not a wolf, not in truth, and she is not birthing pups. Not matter what is said. Even if she often jokes that is the truth.  

She prays until she cannot pray any longer. She is near the edge of begging for the tree to speak to her. _Anything_. She does not know what she seeks. All she knows is she seeks something. It is in the hands of the Gods.

The crunch of leaves floods her ears but there is nothing to be frightened of. She knows that it is Robb without needing to turn to see him. No matter what he has been gone for some time.  

Myrcella swallows back any emotion threatening to find her as she waits for him to come next to her.

He does.

“When I was told you were here I almost did not believe it.” He says gently as he only glances at her out of the corner of his eye before focusing on the tree in front of him.

Myrcella reaches out for his hand rather than saying anything. Emotions are running high within her and she wishes to escape it all, even if just for a few moments.

When she doesn’t speak neither does Robb. Rather she watches him as he closes his eyes and she can only assume he is praying. She opens her mouth to ask but thinks it inappropriate.

Instead she pulls her hand back to herself and ignores the way his head turns. Her eyes close as she prays to the Gods. This time it’s both the Seven and the Old Gods. Someone should answer her. Or at least she hopes so.

She doesn’t know. Perhaps her uncertainty is a problem.

“Do you know?” She asks carefully unsure if she wants the answer.

“The maester mentioned it.”

Myrcella nods as she rests back on her heels. She does not care her dress is being ruined in the snow or that she is shivering more the longer she rests out there.

Robb pulls off his furs and lay them over her as he sits closer to her. Always looking out for her when she does not look out for herself.

She wants to tell him to not ruin his nice riding clothes as they sit in the snow and mud, but she figures there are things that matter more. They have not seen one another in the past few weeks and she needs him more than she has recently.

“Myrcella.”

“Don’t.” She swallows before looking at him. “I am fine. It is normal.”

“I should have been here.”

“You could not have done anything.” A truth. She is uncertain if him being there with her would help or hurt. She supposes the blood pouring from her that was both painful and seemingly endless as her tears find her could only serve to make things more uncomfortable with him.

“I could have been there.”

“We have children. _Three_ of them. I have fought to birth them all and I thank the Gods for them.” Her mother only has three. Nothing wrong with the number even if Robb is one of five from Catelyn.

Robb runs the back of his hand over her cheek. “That does not mean we feel any less about this.”

“It is normal.”

“I am your husband. You need not put a face on for me.”

Myrcella hates the way she feels and hates even more the way a few tears spill. “I am sad.”

“I know.” He whispers as he pulls her into his embrace and holds her close.

She takes comfort in his arms and holds onto him. The snow lightly begins to fall. It’s the Gods. She knows that deep down in her soul even if she does not understand why the snow falls. A sign is still a sign even if she does not know what it means.

“Do you think we’ll have another?”

“I do not know.” He answers truthfully. “I hope so.”

Myrcella nods against him. “Me, too.”


	7. wrecked

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #7 ; wrecked
> 
> warning for some smut to break up the angst train a bit

Robb lies against the furs covered in a layer of his own sweat. He feels as if he is on fire and will burst into flames at any moment. Not something that is common for him in the North, even during the long summer that seems to never end. The summer snows bring him comfort and usually there is a chill running through him.

Still, there he is doing his best to catch his breath as he spent in his wife, _again_. They have only been married since the week prior but it seems to not have taken them long to figure out just how good everything can feel. Too good, almost. He makes too many excuses to sneak off to be with her.

Myrcella lies half on top of him, covered in a layer of her own sweat as she does her best to catch her breath, using her finger to trace along the skin of his abdomen.

It is no longer as nice and gentle as their first time is. For it seems they both have a wild desire running through them. One that is not simply satiated by stolen tender moments.

Soon enough they will both need to make an appearance and break their fast with members of their families. Her family will depart with his father and sisters soon enough. They will have plenty of time to enjoy one another later.

Still, he cannot seem to keep his hands off of her.

After they both manage to catch their breaths Myrcella walks to the window, covering herself with the furs she can find, looking out at the courtyard.

Robb follows her, keeping some space between them, but enjoying the cool breeze that finds him. Below are some of the household going about their day.

Myrcella leans back against him. “Is this alright?”

“Yes.” He whispers as his arms move around the front of her and bring her closer to him.

“Do you think they will notice if we stay up here for the foreseeable future?”

“Yes” He repeats as he nuzzles the back of her head.

“Hmm.”

Neither of them are entirely comfortable but there is no longer a fear between them. They are content with one another. It is interesting the way a shared intimacy that is duty can draw them to one another. He does not pretend to know her, however, he does the fastest way to make her more.

“Do you hurt?”

“No.” Myrcella gives a shake of her head. “I may later. I think I am too _excited_.”

“Excited?”

“Yes.”

Robb pulls the fur off of her and lets it move to the floor. She moves her hands to cover herself.

“Do not worry, they cannot see you from here.”

“Are you certain?” She whispers, unsure, turning her head back to look at her husband.

“I am.” It is true. But even if it was not he cannot deny the thought sends blood straight to his cock where he finds it difficult to not do anything but want her. “Hold the edge.”

Myrcella does as she is told and her hand grips the stone and spreads her legs apart, just enough.

“Do you want this?”

“Yes.” She nods and even moves herself back against him. It is pitiful how much she does.

He slowly enters her, wanting to savor the moment, before they need to get on with their day. He is on edge and needs her, even if he is already had her, many times. He is not ready to let her go yet. Not ever.

There’s a groan that comes from him while a moan comes from her, moving together, watching the people below as he feels her tight warmth squeezing his desperately throbbing cock.

“Robb.” She moans as she grips so hard her knuckles are white. “Robb, please.”

Robb pulls out of her and easily slams himself inside of her once more, hand moving around the front of her chest, gripping her tit a little forcefully in his hand.

He yanks her so she’s as close to him as they can manage. The angle of her hips only allows him to find himself in deeper within her.

“Robb.” She cries out his name as she falls apart in his arms.

He does not stop. Not yet. Rather he fucks her through the orgasm that overtakes her. His teeth bite into the flesh of her shoulder before it all becomes too much for him and his spends inside of her all he has left.

Exhaustion finds them both as they slide down to the floor, resting on both the wall and one another.

“My cock is raw.”

That only causes Myrcella to let out a giggle. “I am sure we will both need some recovery time.”

“Mm.” Robb does not disagree even if he thinks they are both going to only want each other later. As it turns out Theon is definitely right. There _is_ something to the whole sex thing. Not that Robb doubts him much. Only he did not understand. Not like he does now.

There is a knock at the door before it opens slightly.

“My Lord, my lady,” she greets, “apologies.”

Myrcella instantly turns red and covers herself as the maid only looks everywhere but them both on the floor. Robb is less concerned and perhaps on the edge of proud.

“King Robert and Queen Cersei request your presence before they depart. Should I tell them you are coming?”

Robb bites his lip, holding back amusement, only for Myrcella to lightly smack at his arm.

“We will be there shortly. Thank you.”

“My Lord, my lady.”

“Robb.” She scolds as she looks at him with wide green eyes and red cheeks. “My mother cannot see me like this.”

“Fucked out like a whore?”

“Robb.” A scolding as the blush deepens on her cheeks.

He kisses her jaw, hand on her head, keeping her close. “Much prettier than any whore I have seen.”

“You can explain to my mother the marks.”

“Mm.” He nuzzles against her. " _Later_.”

“Yes,” she murmurs, before kissing him, “later.”

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr.](http://laurelsalexis.tumblr.com/)


End file.
